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Tuesday, November 14, 2017

Today we have a guest author for the blog. Rex McVitty, husband of Honoria Livingston, wrote this article for his Florida newspaper after trying to test drive a car in 1959.

Rex McVitty (Right) and Honoria Livingston

I
can’t very well remember any time in my life, that I wasn’t conscious of being
too tall. Even when my mother packed me off to boarding school, she had to buy
my suits about three sizes too large because she well knew that before the
three month term was over, they would be much too small. So I felt that I was
never sartorially right. Either my coat fitted like a frock coat or there was a
draft between the top of my trousers and the bottom of my coat.

I
had similar problems in India. There, the standard price set by the Guild of
Tailors for a white drill suit was three rupees eight annas (this as you may
well guess was quite a long time ago). Now when I went for a suit, the tailor
would look at me and figure he was bound to lose money on the deal, so he cut
corners as much as he could. The result was a suit that fitted me like a glove,
only the first time it went to the dhoby (wash) it shrunk, and from then on it
would be just one more “too small suit!”
I used to plead with tailors “make me a suit larger, I will pay you more money,
gladly.”

“Sorry, sahib, no can do, guild price- three rupees eight
annas.”

So there I was, sentenced to a life of ill fitting
clothes.

On board ship, the bunks were too short and the deck
headroom too low. I found a cork topee a most expensive luxury, and only “mad
dogs and Englishmen” went about without them. I was always smashing mine on
watertight doors or low ceilings. I wonder that my head is as sound as it is, I
have cracked it so often. I often fancied that I had developed a kind of radar
in the top of my head that warned me of low doors but I couldn’t always rely on
it. I remember crossing over on one of the White Star liners-maybe it was the
Georgic. The White Star Line is no more, having been absorbed by the Cunard,
but in its day it boasted of having many fine ships including the ill fated
Titanic.

The Georgic

Well anyway, on the Georgic, we lived on the far side of
one of the watertight doors, and any of you who have travelled on ships will
know exactly what I am talking about. Do you know I avoided crowning myself for
six day and six nights. You couldn’t but have admired the graceful way in which
I slid under that sharp edge. When we were going up the gang plank in New York,
I suddenly remembered having left my wrist watch by my pillow rushed back to
get it, hit my head against the watertight doo and was carried ashore feet
first on a stretcher.

Well that’s the way it is. People have been awfully nice
about it. On one small craft, the carpenter cut a hole for me in the wardrobe
standing at the foot of my bunk so that I could shove my feet into the wardrobe
and my top coat kept them warm. And one time on battleship, when we had to
sleep on the gun-deck in hammocks, on eof shipmates got the brilliant idea of
hanging his clothes on my feet which were sticking a good foot out of the end
of the hammock and so were very cold. Instead of folding them up and putting
them in his chest, his clothes looked better and my feet were kept warmer.

I wonder could you guess the seed that is germinating in
my mind-the one that is responsible for this entire outburst. Here in this
United States, they have lowered the ceiling in the 1959

automobiles so that
they rest on my head when I am driving. This my friends is the final blow. I
get in, sit in the driver’s seat and you couldn’t insert a dime between the top
of my head and the roof of the car. First time I hit a bad bump, I would
probably break my neck, and this has happened in a country that is noted for
having tall men. Last time I was abroad people would say to me: “You’re an
America, aren’t you?”

I didn’t think it was my accent or brogue that was giving
me away, so I would enquire “How did you know?” only to be told “you are so
very tall.”-It sure beats me!

Of course, everything is not on the debit side. I can
reach higher and wade in deeper water than the average man. They used to say to
me when I was in the Navy “Paddy, I wish that I had your height a beer.” Maybe
beer does taste better when it has such a long way down, splashing all the way.

Then there was a time right here in Sarasota. They were
having a baby parade on a Saturday afternoon- and I was walking along Main
Street-the crowd were packed pretty densely along the curb, but as I walked by,
I could see over their heads so for me to see the parade was a cinch. I noticed
one undersized little party desperately trying to squeeze in so he could see
what was going on. All of a sudden he spied me, cried out, “Brother you are
lucky! You have a built in soapbox!”

Now what can you do in a case like that but count your
blessings? But I do think the time is right for the organization, a benevolent
and protective one, for all likely lads who just forgot to stop growing after
they had reached a useful height, to agitate for longer beds, higher
automobiles and doorways. How about it, eh?

Tuesday, November 7, 2017

Margaret Beekman Livingston was a strong
woman. There is no denying that. She raised ten children, nine of whom turned
out pretty well. She was known as a competent business woman, running her
massive estate for twenty-five years after the unexpected death of her husband,
Judge Robert Livingston.

When the British burned down her house and
all of her outbuildings in the fall of 1777 she was able, through sheer force
of will and perseverance, was able to convince Governor George Clinton to

release men from their militia obligations so they could be free to rebuild her
house. She met military and political leaders, from George Washington to John
Jay, and charmed them all.

Not that George Clinton

Closer

That's the one

Robert R. Livingston

On August 15, 1776 Margaret wrote a letter
to her eldest son Robert Livingston where she revealed that under her tough
demeanor was a mother, scared for her child’s safety. A letter that could have
been written by any mother to any child in any time of war. She wrote:

“I hear you are to be with Genl.
Washington but in what capacity I cannot hear – must you too be exposed to the
fire of our Enemies oh my Dear Child Consider your situation with respect to
myself, and my other children Do Not Expose yourself needlessly. You are in the
Civil Department let others be in the Military your country has need of yr
counsel as well as your family”

The letter in question

The British Army had landed on Staten
Island on July 2, 1776, the same day Congress had declared Independence. By
August 1, 1776 the British had more than 32,000 soldiers in New York Harbor
along with a fleet of some 400 ships. Margaret, like Washington, was concerned
with where the British would land next. Which of her sons would be in danger? Would
any of them die like her son in law Richard Montgomery at Quebec? Would she and
her family be in danger if the British came up the river? The British landed on
Long Island a week after she wrote her letter. Robert was not with the army but
her son Henry, a Lieutenant Colonel in the 2nd New York Regiment was
trapped behind enemy lines for a period of time until he could escape to Connecticut.

Letters like this give us a glimpse into
the real person, the very human, emotional person, who lived beneath the grand
historical veneer that the Gilbert Stuart portrait puts upon her. We talk about
her many accomplishments but can easily forget that she was a living breathing
woman who feared for the safety of at least some of her children.

Monday, September 18, 2017

2017 marks the bicentennial of the beginning of
construction of the Erie Canal. It was the canal that turned New York into the
Empire State. Of course, it took a long time to arrive at the first shovel of
dirt. In fact, Robert Livingston, First Lord of Livingston Manor had traveled
into what was then Indian territory in what would be western New York. He
reported to several successive royal governors that improvements to the natural
waterways of the colony would allow access to the abundant resources of the
western lands. He was ignored.

The first commission on the Erie Canal was formed in
March of 1810. It was carefully assembled to include federalist and
democratic-republicans. The committee included Gouverneur Morris, Stephan Van
Rensselaer, William North, Thomas Eddy,

DeWitt Clinton

DeWitt Clinton, Simeon DeWitt and Peter
Buell Porter. Gouverneur Morris was the titular head of the committee but it
was widely known

that DeWitt Clinton was the driving force behind what would
become known as “Clinton’s Ditch.”

Gouverneur Morris

The major accomplishment of the committee was to
convince the New York State Legislature that the canal was in face a feasible
project. In June of 1810 the entire committee, except for Morris, traveled by
water as far as they could on the Mohawk River then, joined by Morris, traveled
to Lake Erie by carriage. They then produced a report that spurred the
Legislature to act.

On April 8, 1811, the legislature approved $15,000 for
the commission to begin their work. They also added two new members to the
commission, Robert R. Livingston and Robert Fulton. Livingston and Fulton.
Livingston and Fulton had a monopoly for steamboat travel on the Hudson River
and were in the process of building a steamboat to ply the Mississippi River
which would give them a monopoly on that river as well. Having them on board
would provide an even greater economic incentive for farmers and merchants to
use the canal.

Robert Fulton

The Chancellor

Fulton and Livingston quickly found important roles on
the commission. Fulton was to help find designers who could build the canal
while Livingston would work with DeWitt Clinton to try to find national sources
of funding for the project. In October, 1811 they sent a letter to the
governments of all American states and territories pointing out that the canal
would benefit the entire country and that they should either pay New York to
help build it or pressure the federal government to give New York funds to
offset the cost of construction.

It didn’t go well.

The states that bothered to respond at all sent
resounding no’s.

Shortly thereafter the War of 1812 put the canal on
hold although the commission retained its power and in 1812 was legally allowed
to create a fund to pay for the canal. (This was repealed in 1814).

Livingston had one more role to play in the commission’s
history, which he did by dying in February of 1813. Opponents of the canal in
the New York legislature took the Chancellor’s death as an opportunity to
challenge the authority of the entire commission, claiming that it ended when one
member died and the committee would have to be reformed. Eventually Attorney
General of New York, Abraham Van Vechten ruled that the power of the commissioners
did not end with any particular member’s end.

It would be another four years before construction on
the canal would begin. The canal was not finished until 1825.

Tuesday, September 12, 2017

I recently received a few letters I had requested from the Gilder Lehrman Center and immediately answered a question that has nagged me for years. We know that in late 1775 the mill exploded.But why? I mean, yes, it was a gunpowder mill and if you make it right, gunpowder will explode. But what actually happened at Judge Robert Livingston's mill?As it turns out it was the age old story. Stupidity.Judge Robert Livingston wrote in a letter dated 15 November 1775 to his son in law, General Richard Montgomery, that

Judge Robert Livingston

"three stupid fellows fired a piece two or three yards from the place where the powder was drying" (The Judge had been sent a load of damaged powder from Fort Ticonderoga to try to salvage but you read my previous blog on the mill so you know this) He goes on "which set fire to the pans & then to the powder mill which unfortunately blew up, & they with the poor powder maker are most unfortunately burnt that they live is very extraordinary about 500 lbs of powder was blown up"Wow. There's a lot there to dig into. The Judge tells us that the cause of the explosion were three chuckleheads. Its unlikely that they were employees of the mill but more likely militia men sent to guard it. He also tells us that the four men at the mill survived the explosion but were badly injured. We also know that 500 lbs of gunpowder were destroyed. I'm not sure I can fathom what 500 lbs of gun powder looked like when it exploded but it must have been exciting.

Maybe something like this? I don't know. I'm guessing at least one of the guys got burned trying to walk away all slow without looking back.

He also reveals where the gunpowder was supposed to go when it was ready. Again to Montgomery the Judge wrote "I should have been much more affected with my loss had you not met with so lucky a supply." This seems to indicate that the gunpowder was bound for the invasion of Canada. The "lucky supply" was gunpowder that Montgomery had captured from the British during his early successes during the invasion.So one nagging historical question I've had is answered. The gunpowder mill blew up because of three yokels playing with guns.

Tuesday, May 23, 2017

Chancellor Robert R. Livingston could be a powerful
and influential friend to have. Unfortunately, it was very easy to earn the
man’s enmity. As a result, Livingston retained few friends for long periods of
time. His three most significant friends from before the Revolution were
Richard Montgomery, Gouverneur Morris and John Jay. All three men were at one
time or another as close as brothers to the Chancellor but over the years the
closeness ended.

Richard
Montgomery was married to Chancellor Livingston’s older sister, Janet. The two
men became close friends often spending time talking science, agriculture and
politics. Both had similar political leanings. Both were sent to New York to
guide New York in the early days of the war. Livingston was chosen to go to
Congress in Philadelphia while Montgomery remained in New York. With
Livingston’s influence, Montgomery was selected as a brigadier general in the
new army. On the last day of 1775 his friendship with Livingston came to a
sudden and rather violent end when he was struck by several grapeshot while
leading an assault on the city of Quebec.

Gouverneur MorrisLadies man and leading Peter Stuyvesantimpersonator of the 18th century (not really, probably)

The real death of Montgomery was less poetic and neat andmore grapeshot in the head

Gouverneur
Morris met Livingston at King’s College, when he entered a few years behind the
Chancellor. Morris and Livingston had similar backgrounds, both were from
landed family, and, again, similar political leanings. During the war they
frequently served together in various bodies or corresponded about their
respective duties. Livingston even had Morris check into the background of
Thomas Tillotson when he proposed marriage to one of the Chancellor’s younger
sisters. If there was one thing about Morris that Livingston particularly
disliked, it was Morris’s penchant for the ladies. Livingston once even took the
time to write a letter to Morris admonishing him for spending time with ladies
when he should have been attending to his Congressional responsibilities. Given
his reputation as a Lothario it is unlikely that Livingston would trust Morris
alone with his wife, mother, daughters, or sisters. After the war Morris moved to Pennsylvania and his duties took him away
for long periods of time. While he and Livingston never formally ended their
friendship they had lost the closeness they once shared.

John JayDecent judge, terrible diplomat

John
Jay was the Chancellor’s closest friend for many years. The two had also met at
King’s College. After graduating they served their time as law clerks at the
same time and passed the bar together. They briefly operated a law firm together
and became fairly prominent in New York City society life. Jay even married a
cousin of Livingston’s. As they matured they became the god father to each
other’s children. In 1776 they made plans to live together with their wives
while attending Congress but an illness for Sarah Jay prevented this from
happening. During the war the men wrote the lion’s share of the New York
Constitution together, they worked on the defense of the Hudson River together
and they were even involved in some counter espionage together.

The
brother like closeness these two men shared makes the ending of their
friendship all that much more tragic. The first cracks appeared during the war.
In 1777 Jay tried to slip some anti-Catholic clauses into the New York
Constitution which Livingston prevented. Later when Livingston was Secretary of
Foreign Affairs and Jay was one of the peace negotiators in France, Livingston
rebuked the negotiators for exceeding their authority and keeping the French in
the dark about their negotiations. Jay responded with an enormously long letter
explaining their reasoning.

After
Livingston issued the oath of office to George Washington, making him the first
President of the United States of America, his relationship with his friend Jay
was further strained. Jay was made Chief Justice of the Supreme Court while
Livingston received no federal title. Not only was Jay earning his enmity but
so was the entire Federalist party.

In a
relatively short amount of time Robert Livingston would switch his allegiance
to the Democratic-Republican party and bring along most of his family or
“faction” as his political enemies preferred to call it. In 1795 John Adams
celebrated the defeat of Tillotson for office as a victory over the Chancellor
in a letter to his wife. “Mr. King is re-elected by the Legislature of New York
by a majority of five in the House and two in the senate, in opposition to Mr.
Tillotson, whom you know, to have married a Sister of Chancellor Livingstone.
This is a great Point gain’d.”[i] Of course Adams had always hated Livingston
although he blamed their animosity on Livingston saying “The Passion which has
influenced the Chancellor, through Life has been envy of Mr. Jay, and
consequent Jealousy of the Friendship between Mr. Jay and me. He hated me because
I was the friend of Mr. Jay.”[ii] The relationship between
the Livingstons and the Federalists became so bad that a cousin of
Livingston’s, Maturin Livingston, very nearly dueled Alexander Hamilton in 1796
but Hamilton begged off because he already had another duel scheduled.[iii]

It
seemed that Livingston and Jay had a chance to become friends again in 1794,
until Washington sent Jay to England to negotiate a new treaty that would tie
up some loose ends from the Revolution. When the text of what became known as
the “Jay Treaty” became generally known John Jay became one of the most hated
men in America. People felt he had conceded far too much to the British. Jay
was quoted as saying he could have traveled from Boston to Philadelphia at
night by the light of his burning effigies. Livingston was perhaps the loudest
voice criticizing the treaty. He published a series of letter under the pen
name “Cato” blasting the treaty and even wrote directly to Washington to
pressure him not to ratify it. To Washington he wrote; “Nothing but your glory
can save under these circumstance the honor of our nation.”[iv]

Nope, still not this George Clinton

In
1795, while he was still in England, Jay had been elected governor of New York
when long time governor George Clinton declined to run again. Many had expected
Livingston to be Jay’s opponent in the election but the Democratic-Republican
surprisingly chose Robert Yates, whom Jay easily defeated.

Abigail Adams,Actually thought the Chancellor wasworse than Satan

Three
years later the Chancellor was chosen to run against Jay. The election was
tough and dirty. Vicious ads and letters filled the newspapers. It attracted
the notice of people in other states. Abigail Adams wrote to her son John
Quincy Adams of the Chancellor “An insatiable Ambition devours the Chancellor.
To see Mr. Jay stand higher in the publick estimation and Elected chief over
him; fills him with the same sensations, which Milton puts into the mouth of the
Arch Fiend. “Better to Reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven.””[v] That’s right. She compared
him to Satan. Thomas Jefferson wrote to James Madison “Hard elections are
expected there between Jay & Livingston.”[vi]

Worse yet the Federalists of New York moved in
masse against the Chancellor. Alexander Hamilton, who had never forgiven
Livingston for opposing his financial plans in the 1780’s, went so far as to
write to Timothy Pickering to ask him to examine the papers of the Chancellor
from his time as Secretary for Foreign Affairs looking for ammunition to use
against him.[vii]

Philip "Ow, My toe hurts to much to fight" Schuyler

At
one point during the campaign Livingston paid a visit to Philip Schuyler at
Schuyler Mansion in Albany. Livingston and Schuyler had often found themselves
on the same side during the war, even though a very convenient case of gout
kept Schuyler from commanding the expedition against Canada which effectively
ended with Montgomery’s death. Livingston complained of Jay and the federal
government, perhaps forgetting the Schuyler was Alexander Hamilton’s
father-in-law. No sooner had Livingston finished his rant and departed the
house than Schuler put quill to paper to report the meeting to Hamilton; “he
and his friends are Assiduous in blackening Mr. Jay’s character.” He went on to say of the Chancellor “The man
my dear Sir has worked himself up to such a pitch of Enmity against our
Government as approaches Madness.”[viii]

Livingston
lost the election. Three years later Thomas Jefferson sent him to France. He
returned a few years later having doubled the size of the country with the
Louisiana Purchase and went on to a life of success in agriculture and
business. In the meantime, his “faction” had seen to the end of the political
careers of Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton. Jay had retired from public
service in 1801 to become a farmer but he and Livingston never spoke again.

Tuesday, May 2, 2017

Two servants in the Maizeland household support baby Kay
Timpson on a bicycle, while grandfather John Henry
Livingston looks on. c. 1903

I was doing some research for a project on the importance of bicycles to turn-of-the-century American women, when I came across these pictures in the recently-donated Katharine Livingston Timpson collection.

They're fabulous pictures for all kinds of reasons--from John Henry's affectionate gaze at his granddaughter Kay, to the personal and rare portraits of two household servants. But the reason these photos caught my eye this time is of course the bicycle.

New York Journal, 1896, from the Library of Congress

Not long after the introduction of the safety bicycle and then the drop-frame bicycle marketed towards women in the late 1880s, America was seized with a cycling craze. With increased popularity and increased production, bicycles became pretty affordable by the 1890s, putting them within reach of the middle and even some of the working class. The lyrics to the popular song "Daisy Bell" put a point on this by crooning,

It won't be a stylish marriage I can't afford a carriage But you'll look sweet Upon the seat Of a bicycle built for two.

Just as Daylight Was Breaking,
from the Library of Congress

As with so much else, there was an element of romance to the bicycle. Unmarried ladies and men were able to able to ride together without a chaperone, and the idea of the "New Woman" daintily speeding by on a bicycle took on a bit of a titillating note. The 1896 song "Julienne!"

Oh have you seen a pretty girl so neat With golden hair and little dainty feet Upon her wheel go riding down the street A perfect little belle in every way She is the girl who sets their hearts on fire A trifle pert; a rogish flirt And there's not a chap in town that doesn't say Oh Julienne, oh Julienne I her so I talk and think and sing of her wherever I go She's just the face and figure to attract all men I've never loved a girl as I love Julienne

Men and women both readily took to "the silent steed," forming a bazillion bicycling clubs, competing in races, and just generally being out and seen on a bicycle. Club-sponsored rides or "runs" challenged participants to do a hundred miles in a single day, called a "century." Less formally, men and women turned out by the hundreds in good weather to take advantage of the best roads and get a little fresh air. In fact, the League of American Wheelmen and other bicycling clubs were big advocates for paving American roads, years before the automobile cruised them.

from Clermont's collections

Bicycling even had an impact on fashion, finally giving common women the incentive to try out some of the recommendations that dress reformers had been pushing for over forty years. In order to make bicycling more comfortable and safer, women made themselves bicycling outfits, hemming their skirts a few inches above the ankles and reducing the number of petticoats to the bare minimum. Some more serious women--like round-the-world cyclist Annie "Londonderry"Kopchovsky--even made bloomers for bicycling, though the garment was highly controversial and often the subject of ridicule.

Shirk bicycle ad, 1890s
from the Library of Congress

As bicycling became ubiquitous in America, it became a little bit of a victim of it's own success. At the end of the 1890s, bicycle club membership was slipping. Pretty soon their novelty was eclipses by the automobile, and bicycles lapsed into the background as an overlooked part of daily life.

So what does all this have to do with that one bicycle that appeared at Maizeland one summer afternoon in 1903?

As usual when presented with a nifty picture and little context: I don't exactly know. Still, linking the household to this wider movement does give us some interesting context on the Livingstons. Here they are participating in this national craze--albeit a little late.

Theo Timpson as a toddler, surrounded by
others with unknown identities. c. 1903

Who's is this bike? The frame shows it to be a man's bicycle, possibly a tall man's. Could it be that John Henry, who has stripped down to his shirt sleeves in the first photo, rode this bicycle a few miles down the road from Clermont to show it to his daughter in Red Hook? Maybe. Or maybe it belongs to the taller of the two boys in the picture at right (with Theo perched atop the seat). He is wearing knickers, which could be either for bicycling or merely a symbol of his youth.

Nevertheless, it does point out the ubiquity of the bicycle and the kind of novel excitement it still conjured when one was brought to the house. Now if only we knew just which Livingston man was cruising the roads of Dutchess County on his wheel...

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Our friend and neighbor Conrad Hanson has compiled a list of gatehouses in the area surrounding Clermont.

In the late nineteenth century, the riverside was populated with Livingston relations, friends, and people from their wider social circle. As they they flowed from house to house on summer visits, these gatehouses formed part of their landscape, serving as landmarks and reminders of the larger mansions hidden down winding roads and behind the forests.

For the men and women who worked on these estates, the gatehouses served any number of functions, including for housing their families, like this image of Clermont's gatehouse and the Rall family who lived there in 1927.

Why not read this blog to take a little armchair tour of some of these structures in our area?

March 19 Sunday 1 pm Scuttlebutt and Scandals in the Livingston
Family: A lecture by Curator of
Collections Geoff Benton, Education Assistant Emily Robinson and Interpretive
Programs Coordinator Kjirsten Gustavson that will explore three scandals from
the Livingston family’s past. Presented in the historic kitchen of Clermont. ($8 per person. Reservations required.)

May 14 Sunday 1 pm Mother’s Day Tea: Enjoy a family-themed tour of Clermont’s
gardens and share a beautiful tea with a mother you love ($18 per person. Free for Children under 5. Reservation required)

July 4 Tuesday 2
– 10 pm An Old-Fashioned Independence Day: 18th century crafts,
Reenactors, music and entertainment. A
great day for young families. Later,
enjoy live music and delicious hot food until a view of the Saugerties
Fireworks over the Hudson River ($12 per car, Friends of Clermont $10)

July 10-14 Mon-Fri 9am-3pm Young Writers Camp will be held at Clermont Historic site as part of this year’s
The Hudson Valley Writing Project organized by SUNY New Paltz. Young
writes will explore regional history and the creative process as
they sit on the banks of the Hudson River and join past writers and
artists who have celebrated the landscape through word and image. Contact
the Friends of Clermont at (518) 537-6622 for an application.

July 31- August 4 Mon-Fri 9am
– 3pm Junior History Club: For children 7-12 ($150 per child, $130 per child for Friends of
Clermont members)“Campers
will explore the museum’s extensive grounds, play games, and make historic
crafts that will help them to learn about the lives of the Livingston family at
Clermont. At the end of the week, the children will put on a performance for
their parents, acting in costumed skits as Livingston family members they have
researched during the week.”

December 16 Sat. 11 – 4 pm Christmas
at Clermont Open House: A great day for families. Free admission

December 17 Sun. 3 – 6 pm Candlelight Tours of
Clermont: Tableaux Vivant of
Christmas traditions through the ages, glittering decorations, and wassail and
traditional holiday goodies served in the historic kitchen ($12 adult; $5 for
children under 12)

Tuesday, January 31, 2017

So it is a known fact at Clermont that Alice Delafield Clarkson's dad Howard was close friends with her eventual husband John Henry Livingston. The two men lived just a few miles apart, and they were distant cousins in the way that so many Hudson Valley elites were at that time.

Alice and John Henry got married in 1906. Alice was 34 years old at that point (her husband was 58), and we at Clermont had always assumed that she must have known him most of her life. Letters from the 1870s show that the two men were friendly and paid each other visits. Alice even pasted one photo from 1900 into her scrapbook that was taken of Clermont's east porch, showing her future husband holding the reins to a carriage and another man, probably her uncle on the porch. Given that it is in Alice's scrapbook, it's a reasonable assumption that she was at Clermont that day and took the picture.

Katharine Livingston

But we also always wondered how well she knew John Henry's eldest (and at that point, only) daughter Katharine. Alice and Katharine were only about a year apart in age, and while Alice had several sisters, Katherine had none. It would not be uncommon for Katharine to play with the Clarkson girls. Friendships between girls of similar ages and social standing were encouraged in the late 19th century--just like today.

Up until recently, there was only the one photo from Alice's scrapbook to ever suggest that the two women were familiar with each other before Alice married Katharine's dad. But the recent donation of many of Katharine's family photos may lend support to the theory that the two girls were very well acquainted.

It all hinges on whether or not the guy on the right in this picture is Howard Clarkson and whether the girls on the bench are Alice's sisters.

It is hard to identify people in historic photos. It just is. If you've never seen somebody in person, matching up static features on a thumbnail-sized face is tricky at best. We've got this photo that Alice identified as Howard Clarkson to compare it to. From what I can tell, it seems possible.

The daughters are even trickier. I'm comparing it to this photo from several years before, and the girls have definitely done some growing up, which makes it even harder.

But go with me here.

If that guy is Howard Clarkson, and these are two of his daughter sitting on the bench (though I'm quite sure neither of them is Alice), then they are all hanging out at Clermont quite casually, being photographed by Katharine. There is some sort of friendship here. These girls are messing around, sitting on the stairs, and lounging in the grass--not having polite tea and stilted conversation in the drawing room.

If Katherine knew the Clarkson girls, she knew Alice.

So why didn't Alice come along to hang out this day? She and Katherine were so close in age, it seems likely they would have shared at least some interests. Did the two girls not get along? Or was she just busy or sick that day and didn't want to take a carriage ride over to Clermont?

And then that brings up another mystery. When Alice married John Henry in 1906, there was some sort of estrangement between Katharine and her dad. It was so bad that Katharine convinced her husband to move to England, pretty much ensuring they wouldn't have to see her dad for a good long while. Family speculation has long linked the falling out to the marriage, but no one knows why.

Perhaps the answer lies in Katharine's relationship with Alice. We know that later in life the two women had a strained and even contentious relationship. Many of their arguments centered on money. Had their relationship always been rocky? Or did their troubles begin when John Henry announced his marriage to Katharine's childhood playmate?

Okay so we will probably know all the answers, but getting to the heart of these relationships is part of looking at the very real lives of the Livingston family--or really anyone in history. I mean, contemplating the emotions that go along with a parent marrying your peer really makes me wonder what Katharine was feeling, and it makes her oh-so-human. Sure the "truth" of the matter is hard to get at, but the questions and the speculation are enlightening in their own way.

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

That George Clinton
Yes I know I've done this joke
before but its still funny

When
the Constitutional Convention adjourned in Philadelphia the fight to create a
unified country out of thirteen individual states was far from over. In every
state another convention was to be held where the leaders would decide whether
or not to ratify the new Constitution. Influential individuals were still rife
with fears left over from the Revolution; fear of a standing army, fear of a
strong central government and fear of loss of control. New York was not exempted
from these fears, in fact anti-federalist ideas may have been held even
stronger by members of New York’s ratification convention as they had vivid
recollections of the long British occupation of New York City and bitter fighting
in a significant portion of the state. Chief among the anti-federalists was New
York’s long time governor George Clinton.

Alexander Hamilton,
Not really important to the story but his name gets
the hits

The
Constitution had many valiant defenders in New York, including Alexander
Hamilton. Hamilton was not alone in these efforts though. He was ably joined by
John Jay on the Federalist papers but on the debate floor it was Robert R.
Livingston who became a force of nature although he receives almost no credit
for his efforts.

Chancellor Robert R. Livingston
Smarter than you, richer than you and he knows it.

Livingston
had not been in Philadelphia to help draft the Constitution although his name
had been considered as a delegate. He had come to realize the importance of a
strong central government during his time in the Continental Congress and as
Secretary for Foreign Affairs. Following his time has secretary Livingston had
returned to New York to reassert himself as the Chancellor of New York, a role which
had been challenged while he was out of the state.

In
Poughkeepsie, where the ratification convention was held, Chancellor Livingston
quickly became notorious among the anti-federalists for converting their
members to the federalist cause. He was known to single out members of their
faction and take them to a tavern, sometimes with Jay or Hamilton, and ply them
with food and drink until they had converted them to the federalist side. The
anti-federalists simply had no one with the near bottomless purse of the
Chancellor who could treat delegates in that fashion.[i]

Livingston’s
influence was best shown on the floor of the debate though. He spoke frequently
in a sarcastic and condescending tone about specific tones as well as the idea
of anti-federalism in general. Melancton Smith was a frequent sparring partner
of the Chancellor’s. Smith insisted that a federal system would be dominated by
the aristocracy who would be by their very nature corrupt, or intemperate in
his words. To this the Chancellor
replied:

“Will he presume to
point out to us the class of men in which intemperance is not to be found? Is
there less intemperance in feeding n beef than on turtle; or in drinking rum
than wine? I think that the gentleman does not reason from facts.”

He went on to ask, rhetorically,
who would lead the country in Smith’s world;

“But who in the name of
common sense will he have to represent us? Not the rich; for they are sheer
aristocrats. Not the learned, the wise, the virtuous for they are all
aristocrats.”[ii]

This sentiment echoed a
point he had made in an oration to the New York Society of Cincinnati on July 4,
1787 when he said;

“Can it be thought that
an enlightened people believe the science of government level to the meanest
capacity? That experience, application, genius and education are unnecessary to
those who are to frame laws for the government of the State.”[iii]

Clearly
the Chancellor favored a strong central government led by the best society had
to offer dedicated to what was best for the country as a whole. On June 24,
1788 Livingston found himself in the odd position of having to clearly explain
the role of the senate to his fellow delegates after their status came up in
the debates. He said;

“The Senate are indeed to
represent the State governments; but they are also the representatives of the
United States, and are not to consult the interest of any state alone but that
of the union.”[iv]

During the debates the Chancellor rarely let an
opportunity pass to make a point without belittling anti-federalism. Once he
compared anti-federalist arguments to “children blowing bubbles.” Later when
disputing a point started with “let us see if we cannot, from all this rubbish,
pick out something which may look like reasoning.” He could not.[v]

When many anti-federalist insisted that the individual
states should control separate military forces the Chancellor was forced to
illustrate how ridiculous that idea was;

“How is Congress to
defend us without a sword? You will also keep that. How shall it be handled?
Shall we all take hold of it? I never knew, till now, the design of a curious
image I have seen at the head of one of our newspapers. I am now convinced that
the idea was prophetic in the printer. It was a figure of thirteen hands, in an
awkward position, grasping a perpendicular sword. As the arms which supported
it were on every side, I could see no way of moving it, but by drawing it
through with the hazard of dangerously cutting their fingers.”[vi]

If anything the Chancellor seemed to enjoy the enmity he
earned from the antifederalists. When his tactics were questioned because they
seemed to arouse so much hatred toward him he reportedly said “that if he had
no wit himself, he had been the occasion of wit in others…”

Not even family was safe from the Chancellor’s barbs. When
a cousin, Gilbert Livingston, argued a point with the Chancellor, Livingston
turned to the rest of the assemblage and said;

John Jay
A long time friend of the Chancellor until he
wasn't but that's a story for another day

“that my worthy kinsman
across the table, regardless of our common ancestry, and the tender ties of
blood, should join his dagger to the rest, and compel me to exclaim in the
dying words of Caesar, “And thou, too, Brutus.””[vii]

Thoroughly rebuked,
when the time came to vote on the Constitution, Gilbert voted with the
Chancellor.

New York’s delegates were still debating when word
reached them that New Hampshire had ratified the Constitution. This meant that
enough states had ratified the document that it could take effect. The
Chancellor took the floor and declared “The confederation was now dissolved.”
In short, there was no going back.

In the end it was the Chancellor’s friend (at least at
that point) John Jay who finally moved that the body vote to accept or reject
the Constitution. After a final attempt to delay by the anti-federalists the
Constitution was ratified in New York on July 26,1788.

The Chancellor can be seen in his judge's robe carefully orchestrating the hand shake between
George Clinton and Alexander Hamiliton

[i]
Dangerfield, George Chancellor Robert R. Livingston
of New York, 1746-1813 p 224